


The Witching Hour

by Page_394



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6442021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Page_394/pseuds/Page_394
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus and Sirius hit the muggle nightlife and encounter someone they were not expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loretta's

“Sirius, I don’t really want to-”

“Remus, live a little. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“I’m a married man.”

“A separated man.”

“This isn’t my... style.”

“What, girls?”

“Don’t be puerile. You know what I mean.”

“You’ll like it.” Sirius, half bounced in front of Remus, who looked as if to turn away, and walked backwards as he pleaded. “The place is classy. The waitresses make great drinks, they’re gorgeous and well dressed... it’s, it’s themed.” 

Remus stopped walking. “That’s not a strip-club you barbarian, that’s a Burlesque show.”

“I don’t know what it’s called, it just looked fun. Look, tonight’s show is ‘The Witching Hour’ coz it’s Halloween next week and all that. I thought it would be kinda fun on account of...”

“On account of us being wizards, you’d think it would be fun to watch girls dressed as witches take their clothes off?”

“Well, yeah.”

Remus sighed, and continued on, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Transparent as glass, Padfoot.”

“Cheers, Moony. Hope you’ve got some muggle money to buy the drinks.”

With a cheeky flick of his wand, Sirius parted the crowd and slipped passed the doorman into a large bar and theatre named ‘Loretta’s’. The room – mostly painted and furnished in rich reds, golds and mahoganys – now sported stylishly draped cobwebs and spiders, hanging bats and great big cauldrons that seemed to be simmering something that smoked. Sirius ordered Remus to take a seat while he approached the bartender dressed as a sexy vampire for a drink.

“Why are there never any sexy warewolf costumes?” Remus muttered as he took a seat at a small round table and looked to the stage. Big black curtains with the same spider/bat/cauldron motif were still closed as the audience chattered and plied themselves with drinks in preparation.

A flash of blond caught his eye and Remus looked up to see Lucius Malfoy sitting a couple of tables away from the stage. Lucius sat with what appeared to be some sort of business meeting. Remus inwardly groaned and quickly diverted his eyes, hoping to remain unnoticed. 

“Merlin’s pants, is that Snivellus?” Sirius said, slopping cocktail on Moony’s front. Remus turned around to see where he was looking, and sure enough, Snape was joining Malfoy at his table.

“Hey, Snivelly!” Sirius called, waving him towards the table. After a pause, obviously deciding whether it would be wise to appear rude in front of business cohorts, Snape opted to walk through the throng of chairs towards Lupin and Black.

“What?” He asked through clenched teeth. “Black, will you desist for one night while I further my career as a self-respecting adult. It’s not something you would understand, but at least try to.”

“Want a drink, Snivelly?” Black said loudly in false good humour.

Lupin tried give Snape an apologetic look, but what came out more closely resembled a cringe. Snape was just about to retort when the lights dimmed and the crowd roared. Snape attempted to return to his seat, but the deluge was too thick. Defeated, he pulled a chair up as far away from Black as he could.

The lights went up, and the opening number started with all the performers. Lupin kept his eyes down, unsure where to look. Beside him, Black whooped and cheered with the crowd. Snape looked disdainfully at the stage, making sure everyone was aware that here was not where he wanted to be.

Suddenly, at the beginning of the third dance, amidst the cheering crowd, Sirius choaked on his drink. Remus turned to him, trying to help, but he was being waved off.

“Her-mion-ee.” Sirius tried to say, furiously pointing to the stage.

“What?” Remus shouted above the crowd.

Simultaneously, Snape and Sirius answered: “Hermione!”

Lupin looked, and sure enough, the young brunette was on stage, dressed in witches robes and very little else. She began to dance – taking off what was under her robe, bending over the cauldron to mix it, flashing some skin under her robe, cheekily pointing her wand into the crowd. Abruptly, before Snape or Remus had a chance to look down, she whisked her robe off and directed her hat down to cover herself in one swift motion. Pointed witches hat pasties covered her nipples. Both Moony and Padfoot were panting like the dogs they were.

After her number, all three men abruptly stood, sending the table crashing to the floor.

“If you excuse me, I have business to attend to.” Snape muttered hurriedly, and disappeared into the crowd.

“Blimey.” Sirius croaked out to Remus, who could do nothing but simply nod.

‘(*

Snape, however, did not take his seat next to Malfoy, but Apparated into the wing of the stage, and made his way into the throngs of the green room. The performers scarcely gave him a second glance, something he was all too used to. He worked his way down the corridor until he found a dressing room marked “Act 3” and entered without knocking.

Hermione was in a state of undress, in black underwear while trying to pull on a pair of sheer pantyhose and fumbling with the garter belt. A little black witchy dress was hung over her chair. When he barged in, she squeaked and, in shock at the intruder’s identity, tried to swallow her scream and coughed and spluttered.

Snape handed her a glass of water on the table. “This is hardly an activity befitting for a Minister employee.”

“What about an ex-ministry employee?” She snapped, taking a sip. “I have to pay the bills somehow.”

“You were fired?”

“What is it to you? I have a show to do, and if you’d excuse me, I have to get dressed.” Her tough-as-nails act was only a facade, and Snape noticed the blush creeping across her cheeks as she held the door open for him.

He raised an eyebrow. It was difficult to take her seriously while she stood in front of him, her creamy skin beautifully contrasted with the black lingerie. Her long legs looked even longer in the stockings. But Snape’s caring-authority-figure act was only a facade, and Hermione noticed his robes tenting in front of her. Her blush deepened to crimson.

“Close the door, Miss Granger.”

“Yes sir.” She squeaked.

Snape circled her slowly, taking her in. “This was certainly not your choice of garb at Hogwarts.”

“I had to wear a uniform over it, then.” She smiled playfully, enjoying the attention.

He stood behind her. “Are you suggesting that you did wear something of this nature during your attendance at school? My, my, Miss Granger.”

He glided his hands around her waist, over her hips, and slowly, teasingly, back up to softly cup her breasts. His hands felt deliciously electric on her skin. Hermione shivered as she felt him press her against is tall body, his shaft hard between her thighs.

His hands dropped, one diving suddenly into her pants while the other held tightly to her hip. She gasped as a finger deftly found the perfect spot and began to circle.

“Was it only the quest of knowledge that kept little-miss-know-it-all in the library those long hours?” He whispered in her ear, and she felt a rush of pleasure start at her centre and work all the way to her fingers and toes. He plunged his finger into her hot centre and groaned, feeling how warm, soft and tight it felt. She whimpered as he pulled out and continued the circles, faster and slicker.

She felt herself tighten, her body going rigid. Snape held her up, used his knees to keep her legs apart and continued the tight, unrelenting circles. Lights began to flash in her head, her blood rushed, then the world came crashing down in a tidal wave that drowned her as her body shook with the shock of it, flew up to the stars, and came floating back down giddily. Her held her as her body went limp, and gently seated her back down.

“Call! Call for witches!” Someone ordered in the hallway.

“Coming!” She called, trying to frantically readjust herself and squeeze into the tight little dress. Snape stayed and zipped up the back, running a finger along her spine as he did and watched her saunter away, teetering on patent black heels.

He could get used to watching her walk away.


	2. Extra-Credit

Hermione walked down the hall to side-stage like a drunkard, and fell into a stage hand twice. Once there she had to sit down, gasping as her mind reeled. She couldn’t fathom what had just occurred. The young witch had never done something so wickedly scandalous in her life.

“He just barged in,” she whispered, putting her head in her hands. Her whole body shook, and not only from the shock of it all. How was she going to make it through this number without embarrassing herself? And maybe in front of him!

She lined up with the others, trying to find enough courage to plaster on a smile. I’ll just keep my eyes to the back, she thought. And if I see him in the front row, then I’m allowed to pass out.

She strutted on stage with the others, sporting a cherry-red smile and the all the semblance of confidence she could muster, throwing her eyes up into the haze created by the blinding stage-lights. However, two familiar faces caught her sweeping eyes. Instinctively, Hermione snapped her head around, surprise gluing her feet to the floor. She couldn’t be mistaken. The girl behind her walked straight into the back of her, pitching Hermione forward. She tried to over-compensate her movement, but she clashed heads with the girl next to her. Sirius and Remus were out of their seats, and heading towards the stage before she hit the floor.

‘(*

Sirius took charge, elbowing people out of the way as he regally proclaimed Remus to be a doctor. The wizards gathered her up and whisked her out the door before anyone else could protest. They were down the street and around the corner, trying to find a place to Apparate, when Severus caught up with them.

“What is it, Snape?” Sirius barked, standing between him and Hermione as Remus cradled her.

“That young woman needs a healer, you hound.” Snape hissed, his eyes darting to the gash on her forehead that was already beginning to bruise. “She looks like she has a concussion, and unless you have magically sprouted a gifted mind in the last few years, you won’t have the means to help her.”

Sirius was about to retort when Remus nodded behind to Snape. “Grimmauld Place.” He told him, took his friend’s arm, and vanished.

‘(*

Hermione woke up her bed in the Griffindor girl’s dormitory. She was alone. It took her a beat to understand that she had overslept, and she flew out of bed, gathered up her things, and rushed down to Transfiguration. 

She was outside the Potions classroom. Tentatively, she knocked twice before entering, and pushed at the heavy door. It creaked ominously.

Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen. She put down her textbook and took a look around. The room was dimly lit by only four candles around the edges of the room. From where she stood, she could see directly into the store cupboard, but none of the shelves’ contents.

She tried his office. The large desk was unoccupied, instruments she thought she remembered on Professor Flitwick’s desk twirled, bouncing light around the room.

“Sit down, Miss Granger.” A voice, the voice she so desperately wanted to hear, spoke from the doorway. She did as she was told, shuddering as she heard his robes rustle so closely behind her.

“Tell me,” he traced a finger firmly up her neck, Hermione responding with a tilt of her head and a parting of her cherry red lips, “why you are sneaking around my store cupboard in the dead of night?” His lone finger became his whole hand, and Hermione quietly whimpered. “Didn’t I make it clear that serious punishment would be dealt to anyone who stole from there again?”

“P-Professor, I wasn’t sneaking.” She managed to stutter, her eyes closed as breath fast as both his hands roamed around her neck, across her shoulders, down her cheeks and through her hair. “I-I wanted to talk to you about an assignment you recently marked. You only gave me a B.”

“Because you deserved ‘only a B’.” He appeared in front of her, his black eyes boring into her brown. 

“Could you just look at it again, I think you will find...”

“No, I will not.” He stood and walked to the other side of the desk, looked up at the series of books he kept neatly ordered. “I can offer you some extra credit, however, if you so desperately wish to increase your mark.”

“Anything.” Hermione breathed, standing up. Snape turned around in time to see her unbutton her blouse and step out of her skirt, revealing the outfit she wore on Loretta’s stage.

“This is hardly an act befitting an insufferable know-it-all.” Snape spoke from the bottom of his throat as he advanced on the young witch, unbuttoning his own robes. She tried to turn, wanting to watch, but he forced her against the desk.

She heard him mutter a spell and felt restraints curl around her wrists. Unable to see him, and able to move, the anticipation was killing her. She wanted to feel him pressed up against her again, wanted to feel lose incredible electric hands running over her back, her neck, her thighs, her breasts...

He grabbed her thighs firmly, and lifted her a little until the angle was perfect. The suddenness of the movement made her groan, her heart hammering on her chest and her teeth clinched as tightly as his fingers dented her flesh.

“I suggested you take hold of the desk, Miss Granger.” He instructed as if providing her a lesson. She did as she was told, and closed her eyes as he aligned himself perfectly. She moaned as he pushed himself in slowly, gripping at the table harder as he moved himself inside her, further and further...

Remus snapped his hand away as Hermione gasped and woke up. She had been muttering in her sleep, her eyebrows knitted and mouth set in a hard line. Remus had put a cool cloth over her head, but it had done little in providing her peace. Vivid dreams were a side-effect of the potion Severus had given her.

“It’s alright, Hermione, you’re safe.” He assured her, taking the cloth from her forehead. She stared at him for a moment, her mouth slightly open, panting as she recovered from her nightmare. Remus licked him lips and tried not to start panting himself.

“What-” She began, trying to recall the memory. She remembered arrive on stage, and falling... she must have hurt herself badly. As the thought passed through her, her head exploded with pain. “Ouch, where am I?”

“Grimmauld Place.” He answered, offering her a glass with some nasty liquid in it. “Drink this and the bruise will be gone by morning. It might ease the pain too.” 

She took it, hands shaking. “I hit my head?”

“Yes. Sirius, Severus and I brought you here.”

She nodded and looked past him, concerned that they were waiting beyond the door. “Where are they now?”

“Sirius is upstairs. Severus has left, and I don’t know whether he will be back or not. He’s not exactly forthcoming.”

Hermione smiled weakly and put her glass down, barely touching it. Remus took a chance to really look at her. It had been two years since he had seen her – without a family to hold her to England, she had travelled across the world to experience other magical lives. Remus had heard that she had been offered a job in the ministry in Foreign Relations.  
She had fallen. As one who had himself, Remus could see it in her eyes. Something had happened. He turned away. She was too young to have lived so much.

“Thank you, Remus.” She said quietly, her eyes already beginning to flutter closed.

“I’ll leave you to rest.” Remus replied.

‘(*

Sirius Black was not upstairs, but sitting in the dining room with his feet up, reading the Profit, with a cigarette screwed into the corner of his mouth. He offered one to Remus, who refused.

“How’s the invalid?” He asked.

“Asleep,” Remus answered, making a pot of tea. “But she should be better in a couple of hours.”

“No harm done then.” Sirius grinned mischievously, turning the page. “Oh look, there’s been dragon sightings in Surrey.”

“There was harm done, Padfoot.” Remus frowned at him seriously. “You shouldn’t have taken me there.”

“I didn’t know, Mooney. I mean it.” He said, putting the paper down.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m a forty-three year old, married wizard...”

“Separated.”

“And I shouldn’t be shamelessly gawking at witches half my age, Sirius.”

“They weren’t witches.”

“One of them was!” Remus looked exasperated. Sirius grinned, finally understanding why Remus was reacting so passionately.

“She’s not a little girl anymore, is she?” He asked.

“Merlin, Padfoot I could smell her through the bloody crowd.” He dragged his hands over his face, pressing the tips of his fingers to his eyes. “It’s mating season. My hormones are going hay-wire.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it, Mooney.”

“There is plenty wrong with it!” He hissed. “Even if she wasn’t half my age, or an ex-student, I could lose control... Merlin, I’m not even going to think about that.”

“Remus,”

“Drop it, Sirius.” He said, taking a sip of his tea, passing another cup to his friend. “This is a conversation not worth having.”

Sirius plopped a couple of sugars in his cup and stirred thoughtfully. “Well then, if you’re not interested...”

“Don’t even think about it, mutt.” Remus growled.


	3. The Wager

When Hermione awoke again, she felt almost completely better. Her head was a little tender and her mouth was as dry as parchment, but she felt she could move without crumbling to the floor.

She quietly slipped out of bed, wondering who had the gall to undress her, wrapped a sheet around her and began to inch open the door. She needed a drink, but had no desire to wake or run into anyone. Focused on the floor, she didn’t notice the figure behind the door, his hand held up to knock, until she walked straight into his chest.

Sirius Black held her steady before she did more damage to herself. “Easy there, Hermione. We don’t want another bruise on your pretty head.” He grinned at her, teeth flashing in the dark. “And where are you sneaking off to in the dead of the night?”

“Sorry Sirius. What time is it?”

“Just gone one.” He answered. Hermione was suddenly aware that he hadn’t let her go yet. She shivered, all too aware of his big hands wrapped around her arm. This was the first she had seen her best-friend’s god-father since he disappeared beyond the veil. Harry had written to her, detailing his return. He looked like a completely different person – young, and charming –she would be lying if she said she hadn’t instantly developed a crush on him. No witch could have helped it – the stormy grey eyes; strong, broad-shouldered physique; the rough curly hair that made you want to twine your fingers through it while doing unspeakable things to that all-to-kissable mouth...

Get a hold of yourself, Hermione Granger, she snapped herself back to the present in alarm. She didn’t know that Sirius had noticed her eyes drift down to his mouth.

“What did you want to ask me?” Hermione managed to blurt out in an effort to distract both herself and him.

“Well,” Sirius began, peeking through his dark scruffy hair, “Remus and I wanted to offer you a place to stay. I would love to get to know this new Hermione Granger.”

This time she audibly gulped, holding herself against the door so she didn’t do anything rash. His voice was as rough as sandpaper, and she would have bet that his tongue was rough too...

“A-and you came to tell me at one in the morning?”

“Not exactly.” He grinned wickedly and she felt her knees almost give way. He daringly brushed a lock of hair away from the small cut still visible – all that was left from the giant bruise.

“Sirius,” a voice from the end of the hallway spoke, rather than inquired. “You’re still up.”

He stepped away from her shamelessly, smiling at his best friend. Remus, however, was scowling down the end of the hall. Hermione blushed red.

“I’m sorry, Remus, I didn’t mean to wake you both.”

“No need to apologise, Hermione.” Remus smiled at her warmly. “Would you like something to drink?”

Forgetting about her thirst, Hermione shook her head. “No thank you, I was just going back to bed.”

“You’ll think about it?” Sirius asked.

Choosing the answer that would allow her to disappear the fastest, Hermione nodded and vanished back into her room. Sirius’s shoulders dropped as he sighed, and flounced up the hall towards his moody, werewolf best friend.

“Tea?” He asked innocently.

“Cheers, Moony.” Sirius grumped and followed him into the kitchen.

As Remus put on the tea, Sirius sat down, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “So, I asked her to move in with us.”

“You are impossible, Padfoot.” He answered angrily.

“She can’t leave.” Sirius said by way of an explanation. “I’d bet my fortune that if she does, we’ll never see her again. She’s a friend, Moony.”

“That was the right call,” Lupin replied, “but I’m not so sure on the incentive.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how I’m going to get my instincts under control. It’s a full moon in a week.”

“You’re not that bad.”

“Dora couldn’t handle me. I would hurt her, or I would go chasing after other witches.” He crashed around the kitchen to vent his frustration. “I couldn’t be trusted. I can’t be now.”

Sirius went silent, knowing that nothing would make his friend feel any better. When Remus put the cup in front of him, he finally smiled. “I could take her off your hands. I bet she shags like a minx.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Padfoot, that isn’t what this is about.” Remus snapped. He dropped his eyes into his cup and mumbled. “It’s just what I have to put up with during mating season.”

“I know, Moony, but we’d both be lying if we said we didn’t find her incredibly attractive.” Sirius sighed wistfully. “So young, and still so perfect.”

“And far beyond your reach, Padfoot. You’re getting old.”

“I’m just over forty, thank you very much. It’s the new thirty. And besides,” he smiled, stretching out his arms, “a few years suspended beyond the veil has done wonders.”  
It was true. Where Sirius looked forty going on twenty-five, Remus felt forty going on sixty. In reality, he still looked young for his years. His condition kept him in good shape, and the grey hair and lines around his eyes only made him look distinguished. But as a soon-to-be divorcé, he didn’t see it.

“Are you seriously suggesting...”

“I think she’d be interested.”

“You’re in a dream-land.”

“Twenty galleons say I could.”

Remus froze, staring at him horrified. “You utter philistine, the last thing Hermione Granger needs is two old men lusting after her.”

“I think it would be good for her.” Sirius replied. “Something happened to her – we found her in a muggle brothel for Merlin’s sake.” He ticked off a finger. “Her friends talk about her as if she was still thirteen – last time Harry was over it sounded as if she had run away to join the flaming circus,” he ticked off another, “and the ministry probably used and abused that huge brain-”

“Wonderful mind.” Remus growled.

“- of her’s.” Sirius finished, trying not to laugh at the possessiveness his best friend was displaying. “Then spat her out at the end. I haven’t seen any proof that she’s been treated like the bomb-shell of a witch she is.”

“That’s a touching speech, Padfoot.” Remus said, “but I don’t believe a word of it. It’s a demeaning wager for her.”

“Chicken.”

“No!”

“Fine, seventy gold galleons to he who bangs, screws or makes love to her first. You can always owe me in housework.” He winked at Remus. “Whether you take the bet or not, she will have both of us doting over her anyway. Why the hell not? You’re smitten, and I like to please.”

“I’m not smitten.” Remus growled.

“Then fine, I’ll have her to myself.” Sirius grinned.

Remus gave him a look that could have killed. “I refuse to take the bet. But you can do as you please.” He threw his eyes to the ceiling. “Does the poor girl know that she’s locked in a house with two animals?”

Sirius grinned. “Woof.”

‘(*

Hermione was sitting at the edge of her bed with her head in her hands. She chose to take Sirius up on his offer to stay at Grimmauld place. She was going to Apparate to her current residence – a motel across the road from where she once worked, although she had told them she was renting a place in Wembley, collect her things and set up home. There had been one condition: they were not to tell Harry, Ron, Ginny or anyone else that Hermione Granger was back. Thankfully, they did not ask for an explanation.

But she didn’t know how she was going to manage. She had little experience with men in her life. They had all been boys, or men from the ministry interested in her mind. The first time in her life that a man had shown some kind of sexual interest in her was on the stage at Loretta’s. Hogwarts dalliances seemed so innocent and childish in comparison. The last few days had been thrilling, although she didn’t want to admit it. Hermione was beginning to feel that there was more to her than a brain. She could be a sexy, mysterious woman in control of her own life. The thought made her truly smile for the first time in months.

She had Apparated to a small alley south-east of where she had worked, and walked to the motel, rather than risk Apparating right on top of the cleaning lady. Without the key she spelled the lock open and walked into the small living area and kitchenette. She didn’t own much – just some clothes and mementos. She took the food out of the cupboards and piled it into a plastic rubbish bag, and went into her room to gather her clothes.

A dark figure was standing at her bedside, wand raised. She fumbled for her own, but he sent it flying out of her hand and slammed the door behind her. He lifted his head, and Hermione didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. His voice made her heart race even faster.

“Miss Granger,” Snape said silkily, “I was hoping to find you here.”


	4. Number 12

“P-Profess- Sev-” She didn’t know what to call him, let alone how she should react. He was waiting for her to make the first move, analysing her like a chess board. Hermione’s cheeks flushed, and her heart raced faster as he took a step closer.

“Wh-what- why... um, tha-thank you for, for helping me. Whatever you gave me has done the trick.” She tried to smile, but it faltered. 

To, what she later realised to be, her disappointment, Severus moved away from the bed and stood over her desk. “You fractured your skull and bruised your brain. Remus informed me that you woke up yesterday.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, not taking her eyes off his. She felt her knees beginning to grow weak. “Can I help you, at all?” She finally managed to ask, wanting to get to the bottom of his visit before her legs gave out entirely.

He took a step closer until his tall frame loomed over her as it used to during Potions class. Hermione remembered her dream and blushed afresh. If he used any of his talents in Occlumency on her, she would be in trouble.

Finally he spoke, his voice sharper than she expected from him. “I heard the ministry is looking for you.”

Of all he could have said, Hermione did not even consider this to been one of them.

“I won’t insult you by asking why, but you should know that they suspect you have returned to London.”

Hermione blanched and quickly sat back on the bed before she fell down.

“How?”

“We weren’t the only members of the wizard community at the establishment that night.” 

The young witch looked incredibly pale, so Severus decided not to push the subject any further. Yet. He took a seat on the bed next to her.

“As for that night.” He whispered.

All the colour that had vanished from Hermione’s cheeks very quickly returned. “I-I’m, er... very sorry about that, Professor.” She mumbled and cast her eyes down to the floor. Snape watched her knowingly, the smallest smile tickling the corners of his mouth.

“You didn’t happen to learn new spells while you were away?”

Hermione blushed deeper. “I didn’t think I could do it, and I so needed to blend in.” The young witch prattled on as fast as she could. “I thought if I cast just a small glamour then everyone would think that I belonged on the stage and I wouldn’t suspect me of being a fraud. I didn’t expect any of the wizarding population to be there that night...”

“It was hardly a small glamour.” Snape cut in.

“I may have increased the potency a little.”

“The wolves were beginning to circle.”

Hermione forgot her initial nervous and grinned. “It wasn’t the wolves that found me.”4

Snape pretended he didn’t hear, and took a moment to look her over. Hermione was not dressed so provocatively as she had been the night before, nor had any glamour been cast in the room, but the memory – he will blame the memory – made something within him stir.

“So what now?” She asked him.

“I was going to ask you the same question.” He replied.

“Will you tell anyone I’m back?”

“No.” He said firmly. “No, I will make my own opinions on the matter at a later date, but I will not inform on anyone.” He looked over her shoulder and out the window. “Those days are over.”

Hermione nodded, beginning to feel awkward in his company. While he loomed over her, speaking in his authoritative tone, she was right back at Hogwarts. Whether it was the Hogwarts of her childhood or the Hogwarts of her dream was an entirely different matter. She took out her wand and beckoned her small collection of possessions into the bag she had charmed so many years ago. It only took her a moment. Slinging it back over her shoulder, she noticed Severus was watching her. His eyes didn’t betray his thoughts.

“Don’t leave Grimmauld place. If I can find you, anyone else can.”

Hermione was halfway through her nod, when with a crack, he was gone. 

‘(*

Hermione found her two new housemates in the kitchen. To her mild surprise, Remus was sitting at the table with his nose buried in a book while Sirius was standing in the kitchen, his wand darting around and over food. Culinary spells and techniques were never something Hermione had mastered, preferring to tackle food the Muggle way, but whatever Sirius was doing it was producing some of the most mouth-watering smells.

Remus glanced up from his book and noticed her in the doorway. He motioned her to come in and sit down.

“I feel like I’m intruding on something magical.” Hermione said, referring to the duo’s dynamic rather than the food. Sirius got her meaning immediately and grinned.

“Or maybe you’re just making it ever better.” He replied with a wink. Remus rolled his eyes and continued his reading.

Sirius served up his masterpiece and took a seat opposite Hermione. For awhile they ate in silence as Hermione savoured her first home-cooked meal in over a year. All the while, both men watched her as the silver fork brushed her wet, soft lips and her eyes would close in culinary ecstasy. Sirius smiled – he was beginning to understand the true allure of food.

“So,” he eventually spoke. “You’re a stripper now?”

Remus kicked him hard under the table, but Sirius kept his eyes on Hermione, a jovial smile playing at the corners of his lips. She returned it, making an effort to relax in this house. She was safe here.

“Good to see all those years of study paid off, huh?” She laughed. “I couldn’t say that foresaw this career during my hours in the library at Hogwarts, but there you go.”

“It’s quite a talent.” Sirius said with mock seriousness. “Do you think it’s something you’ll make a career from?”

Hermione rolled her eyes this time, mimicking Remus. Sirius kept the smile on his face, not wanting to betray that his mind was beginning to wander back to that night, and the site of the witch sitting just beside him, half naked on stage for everyone to see. He could just reach out and he would be able to touch those luscious legs under the table.  
Remus kicked him again and sent him a silent plea to keep it in his pants. The older wizard was more transparent than he thought he was.

Hermione hadn’t noticed a thing, she was still laughing from Sirius’s comment, her head back to show off her long, slender neck. “I don’t know, one does constantly hope for bigger and better things. Who knows what I’ll do now.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Hermione.” Remus said kindly. “Treat your time here as a holiday.”

“We are.” Sirius grinned.

Remus kicked him from under the table again, this time making the table jolt.

Hermione laughed and grabbed a piece of toast as she rose. “Careful, I might take you up on that.” She replied. “Sorry, I’m just going to make myself at home. Remus, there are a couple of books I kept from my travels that might interest you. Come and find me when you’re finished.” She smiled at Sirius one last time and left.

Sirius waited under she had left the room before turning to his best friend and grinning broadly. “Remus, you’re in.”

Remus shoved him and gathered the dishes. “Behave yourself, or you’re sleeping outside.”

‘(*

Sirius found her in the library, a long finger trailing across the books as she made her way through the shelves. He leant in the doorway and silently watched her as she plucked a book from its place, and made her way to the couch by the hearth, flicking through pages seemingly at random. As she flopped down, she caught Sirius’s eye and smiled brightly.

“Thank you again for letting me stay here, Sirius. Especially, thank you for the access to such a wonderful library!”

“Pleasure, love.” He replied, tilting his head, seemingly to get a better view of the title of the book, but more to admire the gorgeous legs it rested on. “But The Great Wizards of the Fifteenth Century wouldn’t have been my first choice.”

“Really? It seems like a really interesting book.” She replied with a frown until noticing he was only teasing. Merlin, the grin of his could stop armies.

“And, thanks again for the head.” She said, tapping her temple. “I’m sorry to have startled you both. I didn’t expect anyone would find me there, let alone run in to half the wizarding world.”

“I enjoyed being startled.” Sirirus said, his grin widening. “But,” he began, suddenly solemn. He paused for a moment, before choosing to take a seat in a chair by her feet to better judge her reaction. Remus wouldn’t approve what he was about to say, but she needed to hear. Her beautiful doe eyes followed him as he moved. “Hermione, you were gone for five years. At first, everyone assumed that it was because of your job, and then I woke up on my couch as if I had never left and after my trial the Ministry began hunting for you...”

“I know. I got all their letters. I was charming the owls.” She had cast her eyes downward, and was looking at her fidgeting hands. “Please Sirius, I can’t tell you what I was doing...”

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” He replied, a small smile on the corners of his lips. “But I just wanted to thank you for what you did.”

Her eyes snapped back up to his, and she held them there defiantly. “I don’t know...”

“I don’t remember much,” he cut in, “but I do remember you. After so many years of whispers and darkness, your voice and your eyes were hard to forget.”

Hermione could do nothing but stare at him as he smiled again, stood up, and walked away.


	5. Fever

A few weeks into her stay at Grimmauld Place, a full moon was rising. That morning, while she stretched out in the library, she heard a knock on the door. Her house mates were still asleep, so she answered it.

“Miss Granger.” Snape greeted her, his eyes shining with an amusement that didn’t make it to his lips. Hermione gulped and resisted the urge to close the door.

“Severus.”

“I would prefer if you used my proper title, Miss Granger.” He said, his dark eyes fixed on her own. He watched as the clever witch began to recognise the undertone of the statement and her cheeks filled with colour. She was truly delicious.

“May I come in, Miss Granger?” He eventually asked. Snapping back to herself, Hermione quickly ushered him insane and into the kitchen.

“Would you like some tea, Professor?”

“No, thank you. I’m here to deliver Lupin’s potion.” 

“I wasn’t aware you were still making it for him.”

“It is difficult to guarantee competency, Miss Granger.” He replied stiffly. “And we have come to an agreement.” He said no more of the matter, but watched her shift awkwardly under his gaze, trying to think of something to say. He finally put her out of her misery.

“It appears Lucius is very interested to know of your whereabouts. He suspects I may know something.”

Her eyes flew to his, her jaw set in a firm line as anger danced in her eyes. It wasn’t the reaction Snape expected.

“Have you said anything?” She demanded.

“No. If he wishes to be cagey on the subject, so will I.”

“He hasn’t said anything to you?”

“Should he, Miss Granger?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and held her hand out to the potion. “Thank you for the delivery, Professor Snape.”

Snape watched her carefully as he placed the potion on the bench. Instead of turning for the door, he took two steps closer to Hermione until he was close enough to touch.

“I could protect you.” He said calmly. “Better than these pups. Lucius will find you eventually.”

“Let him.” She growled. 

Severus was amused by her defiance, but did not show it. She had become a woman to be reckoned with. He was interested to know what had taken her from London, and what brought her back again. He knew he would learn in time.

“I’ll take my leave, Miss Granger.” He said softly. “But you can expect my return next week. I will have business to attend to as Headmaster.”

“Headmaster?”

“Professor Dumbledore has resigned. It appears age is beginning to slow him, but he continues to play an active part in the students education. I’m acting in his stead.” Before Hermione could question him any further, Snape turned from her in dismissal. “Good day Miss Granger.”

Hermione drew her lips in a fine line, glaring at where he had stood. “Complicated man.” She muttered, and began to make herself some tea.

‘(*

The morning was uncharacteristically bright for a London autumn. Hermione lazily stayed in her room to bask in the sun. It wasn’t until in the afternoon that a soft knock came from her door.

“Hermione?” She lifted her head, Sirius was standing in her doorway, a boyish smile creeping across his lips when he noticed her still draped across the bed in her pyjamas with a book in her hand. Typical, he thought affectionately.

“Remus is upstairs and incredibly groggy, but there’s no food in the house, and he just drank the last of the tea.”

Her perfect little mouth parted in mock shock. “Call the Ministry.” She joked.

Sirius chuckled. “Mind looking after him for a bit? He likes a bit of human contact after his change.”

Hermione nodded immediately and started rising. “Of course. His room?”

“Yeah, I won’t be long.” 

Hermione made her way upstairs, knocked quietly, and entered. Her stomach twisted in pity when she saw Remus on the bed. The sheets were twisted around his convulsing body, and the air was heavy with the smell of sweat. His face was ashen, almost as pale as the pillow case he buried his face into. He was curled in a fetal position in the middle of the bed quietly whimpering in a pain Hermione couldn’t begin to image. She hurried to the bed, understanding now why Sirius was reluctant to leave him alone.

“Profe- Remus?” Merlin did she need to break that habit. “Is there anything I can get you?

“Hermione?” He tried to lift his head, but it only made him cry out louder. Instead, he took her hand.

The young witch then understood what was required of her. She crawled on the bed, stacked some pillows at her back and sat up so Remus could rest his head on her lap. 

He was giddy and a little delusional due to fever and whatever pain potion Sirius had given him. Hermione couldn’t help but giggle as he nuzzled into her belly. She placed a hand on his head and stroked his hair, like her mum used to do when she was sick. It pacified him enough, and when she thought he had drifted into a doze, she returned her attention to her book.

But soon she realised that she was never going to be able to concentrate enough to read. Remus continued to squirm a little in her lap, and one hand was running softly up and down her leg, enjoying the fabric. His sandy hair was beautifully silky and she could feel the roughness of his stubble through her thin cotton t-shirt. She looked down at him, wide-eyed. His complete vulnerability was disarming. She wanted to take care of him – an instinct she had never felt before, even with Harry and Ron. Hermione continued to run her fingers through Remus’ hair, for both his benefit and her own, stilling only when he mewed.

Then she noticed that his hand was no longer running the length of her thigh, but had begun to journey upwards. She felt his slightly cold hands inch under her top and begin to run along the smooth skin of her belly. His breathing was heavier, and he groaned discomfort, trying to seek solace in her navel. The young witch stilled, taken aback, but curious. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull away.

“Mione.” He mumbled through her skin.

“I’m here.” She said, stroking his hair again.

“Mione.” He sighed, still fidgeting from his discomfort. At least, that's what she thought he said. She continued to stroke his hair behind his ear in slow, rhythmic strokes. Remus sighed, and copied the rhythm in circles he made up her sides.

His hand continued up her ribcage running his fingers around the strap towards her back in small circles, and back again, his touch feather light. Hermione caught her eyes fluttering shut. The sensation was wonderful. And the play was innocent, wasn’t it? It was just the fever, making him tactile and enjoying the warmth of her skin. Or was it?  
Hermione Granger, forever hungry for knowledge, stared down at the sandy head with his face still pressed against her stomach. His beautiful blue eyes, so full of intelligence, were closed; his long and skillful fingers were hidden under her clothes. She had never thought to fantasise over her ex-teacher. He had been close to both her and Harry – the idea of it felt forbidden.

 _More so than Sirius?_ Her subconscious asked her. _What about Snape?_

She blushed crimson at the thought. Remus continued to stroke along her ribcage, the action causing muscles in her lower abdomen to clench.

“Your skin is soft.” He murmured. She could feel the heat of the fever on the soft skin of her abdomen. His hands continued to caress her up and down, grazing the side of her breasts. She could feel his lips now, searing hot and leaving a trail as he slowly moved upward, nuzzling at her body, her ribcage, until she felt his head push her t’shirt up around her neck to nestle into her cleavage.

The young witch didn’t know whether to giggle or gasp as she felt him rub his rough cheeks and lips over her delicate skin. He wrapped his arms around her, running his hands along her back as his mouth explored. Hermione mewed quietly as his lips made hot trails over the contours of her breasts, until he found the delicate, rosy peak. 

She stifled a gasp, not wanted to startle him out of his state of delirium as Remus took a nipple in his mouth and began to lightly suck. She shivered as his tongue lazily lapped at the soft flesh as a hand reached up to knead the left. He brushed his lips softly across the nipple, and back again, then let the peak fall back into his mouth where he began to suck again. The actions were rhythmic yet incredibly sensual, and Hermione found her back arching to meet him. He drew closer to her, pressing his crotch hard against her leg.

Suddenly, she heard the front door open – Sirius was back, and she knew he would come straight up here. Quickly, but carefully she shifted up so Remus’s head was resting against the side of her thigh and he immediately wrapped his arms around her leg and nuzzled into the flannel. She quickly reorganised herself, and just re-arranged her facial features when the door swung open.

Sirius came in to see Hermione with a book in her hand, and Remus cuddling her leg. He smiled at her, but she couldn’t help but notice the disappointment flashing across his eyes.

“Sorry, I hope he wasn’t too touchy-feely. He gets really tactile when he’s feverish.”

“Nope, he was fine.” Hermione replied, her voice a little too high, and cheeks a little too flushed. “It was like taking care of a child.”

Sirius chuckled. “I’ll go down and make some more tea. Would you like one?”

Hermione nodded.


	6. Dinner

“Good evening beautiful.” Sirius smiled as Hermione entered the kitchen in search of a meal. She found Sirius labouring over a stove, cooking something rich and French, dressed in a crisp white shirt that contrasted deliciously with his dark curtain of hair. She quickly diverted her eyes to the stove and the creamy sauce simmering in the pan.

“It smells divine Sirius.” Hermione said, awkwardly forcing conversation. 

“And the food?” The wizard quipped, shooting her one of his disarming smiles. “Sit down Mione, dinner will be ready shortly.”

She turned to the table to find it better dressed than she had ever seen. The scratched oak surface was covered in a pressed white table cloth, with two sets of fine bone china and polished silver cutlery placed side-by-side. Between them was a thin vase with a simple flower arrangement, and a tall candle, its flame their main source of light.

Hermione eyed the table suspiciously and took her seat. It occurred to her that this would be the first time she had eaten alone with Sirius. What was he playing at? Hermione was at times naive in manners of intimate attention, but she wasn’t stupid. And Sirius’ reputation was not completely unknown to her. You would have to be hiding under a rock to miss her housemate’s interactions between the members of the opposite sex he would bring home.

This didn’t stop her admiring the sight in front of her. Every time Sirius moved, his shoulders flexed under his well-fitted shirt, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes drift passed the rolled up sleeves to the bare forearms. She quickly closed her eyes and put her heads in her hands. This was getting ridiculous.

“Get a grip Hermione.” She muttered to herself.

Movement from the kitchen made Hermione look up again. She forced her expression to reflect something naturally calm, rather than expose what was going on inside her mind. However, her reaction wasn’t fast enough. Sirius didn’t fail to miss the blush dissipating from her cheeks. He smiled smugly as he set a plate down in front of her and took his place to her left. He placed a napkin on his lap and immediately tucked in, gesturing for her to do the same.

Hermione watched him from the corner of her eye as she cut into her pork medallion. He was a picture of serenity as he began to ate, his eyes heavily lidded as he took the first bite. She watched his lips as they parted to accept the morsel, the fork indenting the bottom lip, his tongue flicking out quickly, running along the inner seam. Hermione felt her pulse quicken as she imagined her tongue following suit, or what those cushioned lips would feel like as they devoured her.

The fork dropped against her plate with a clang and both witch and wizard were startled from their reverie. Sirius turned and smiled at his dinner guest, amused at how flustered the little witch was in his presence. She was still dressed in her pyjamas, her hair wild and loose, and her breasts bouncing beneath that thin cotton top that didn’t conceal as much as she thought it did. Sirius licked his lips and took another bite of his food, and wondered what it would be like to run his tongue over one those pert nipples straining against the fabric. He wanted her. Ever since she had transported him from beyond the veil. He had told her the truth in the library that night. In among the darkness and whispers, he had heard her voice – a beautiful, seductive sound that drew him from himself, waking him from his slumber. And then she appeared before him – exquisite, powerful, and absolutely naked. She took him and drew him back into the light. He still dreamed about that night.

“Why the fine tableware?” She asked, her voice rough. She took a glass of water and took a deep sip. Sirius watched the line of her throat convulse before he answered.

“I found it in one of the cupboards upstairs, in dear mother’s old room. Remnants of the Black inheritance.” He said with disdain. “It was some of the nicer crap up there.”

“What were you doing in your mother’s room?” Hermione asked as she took another bite.

“Cleaning.”

“When were you cleaning?” She scoffed through pork.

“I have been known to do it from time to time.” He flashed another stunning smile.

It was difficult to relax around him when he kept looking at her in the same way he looked at the meat on his plate. Hermione quickly brought up another subject to distract him.

“Are you going out tonight?” She asked gesturing at the white shirt he wore with a nod of her head. She noticed a pair of gold cufflinks sitting on the table beside his plate.

He shrugged, “I was thinking about it. Perhaps I’ll Apparate to France for a drink. I received an owl from some charming young witches and wizards suggesting it.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Oh? Would you like to come?” He asked, hoping it sounded innocent. Truthfully, he would relish the idea of whisking her away from this house, getting her drunk and giggling, her body pressed up against his as they danced. 

“I don’t know. I just picked up a really good book...”

“Which could be read some other time. You’re still young, Mione. It would be good for you to let your hair down.”

“I would need to change.”

“I don’t know.” He replied, his smoky eyes hooded. “There isn’t a lot wrong with what you’re wearing now.”

Hermione blushed and reached out for the pitcher of water to hide her reaction. He reached out at the same time, his rough hands brushing against hers. 

Hermione could feel the heat of his gaze as it grazed up and down her body. The tension in the air became palpable. She took another bite from her meal and chewed, but couldn’t really taste anything anymore – the rest of her senses were running in overdrive. She cleared her throat and touched the napkin to her lips, trying to think of anything to say that might diffuse some of the energy crackling between them.

“How was Remus when you left him?” Sirius asked innocently.

So surprised by his question, Hermione blushed a deep scarlet. An action that didn’t pass unnoticed. Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“He... he was...” She cleared her throat.

“Well?” The wizard smiled. He knew Remus too well to expect anything had happened, but there was something incredibly curious about the young woman’s reaction. Hermione refused to look him in the eye as she nodded and quickly returned to her meal.

As soon as she had finished, she gathered the plates and manually took them into the kitchen. Anything to put distance between her and the overpowering physique of Sirius Black. However, soon after she charmed the silverware clean, she felt his presence behind her.

“You seem a little flustered, pet.” He murmured. She turned and had to look up to catch his stormy silver eyes.

“I, ah, it’s been a rough day.” Hermione managed to quietly stammer out. He was so close. She could clearly see the tight muscles in his neck, dropping down to broad shoulders, and the stands of hair just peaking out at the neck of his shirt. She could feel herself, leaning towards him, but her feet remained firmly planted to the ground.

His large hand grasped her shoulder gently, his fingers shooting currents up her back, despite the thin layer of cotton between them and her skin. “If you need anything...” He said gruffly, his voice like sandpaper. He couldn’t conceal the desire from his voice.

Her eyes drifted down to his soft, luscious lips only inches away from her own. It would be such a simple action for her to take a step forward and capture them for her own.

A noise within the house broke her from the spell. What was wrong with her? She quickly took a step back and turned to go.

“Hermione.” He grasped her arm, wanting to maintain control of the moment. She turned towards him, and he felt himself drawn in towards her, even closer. He realised that he had never wanted anything more that to feel those lips on his – to take her mouth with reckless abandon. 

“Sirius...” Gods he loved the sound of her speaking his name. He wanted to hear her shout it, to scream it while demanding he gave her more. She stood there, staring up at him imploringly, with her mouth slightly parted and her chest heaving. He knew that she wanted the same. Remus be damned, if the werewolf wasn’t going to make a move...

A noise in the doorway made her jump from her trance, and both she and Sirius turned to see Remus slowly make his way into the kitchen, clutching at his head. 

“Impeccable timing as ever, Moony.” Sirius muttered darkly to his friend, and went to help the snapping werewolf find something for his pain. Hermione took the chance to flee, and by the time Sirius returned his focus to her, she was gone.

'(*

Remus paused on the landing, just outside her door. Her scent wafted through the centimeter thick crack underneath. He took a deep breath in, feeling his headache clear as dopamine coursed through his system. He could still remember the vivid dream he had in his fevered state. How soft and smooth her creamy skin felt under his lips, the taste of her on his rough tough, the dusky colour of her pert nipples, the way her back arched into his hands. He wanted to feel her flesh under his hands again, wanted to bury himself in her hair, her breasts, in her. Wanted her. He couldn't suppress the growl that rumbled deep in his chest. There was enough wolf still running wild through his system to strain his muscles and darken his eyes with desire. Before Remus' logical self could take over, it pushed him the two steps closer to wrench open the door.

She wasn't there. Her room still smelt of her, warm and spicy and inviting. He stared at her bed, imagining burying his nose in her pillow and rolling in her sheets to cover himself in her. But with each moment, the full moon was waning, and the wolf soon ran off into the night, leaving Remus standing in Hermione's bedroom doorway angry, frustrated, and full of guilt.


End file.
